Recruitment
In the heat of battle, Meni roared at the top of her lungs. "I'm Meni of the Mor race!!"
The thrill of combat had her shouting her battle cry. That roar usually made dungeon monsters cower or freeze in fear. This time, though, the enemies didn't flinch. Even so, it didn't matter. Humans far bigger than her had always crumpled when she charged straight into them. These vicious-looking bastards weren't so tough once you slammed into them. She was sure she could fight and win.
"Come at me! You ugly bastards! Come on! Hiyah!"
Meni bellowed exactly as she'd been taught, drawing every attack onto herself.
"Ack! Oh no... the orcs are swarming!"
"They're coming because of that shout!"
"You stupid bitch! Shut your mouth! The orcs are pouring in because you're yelling!"
The three mages preparing spells in the rear paled at the sight of orcs rushing in from every direction.
"We'll hold them back somehow! Just get your magic ready!"
When the San-race spearman raised his shield and stood beside Meni to block the front line, the mages steadied themselves and unleashed their spells.
"Fireball!"
"Firebolt!"
"Firebolt!"
Fireball
Firebolt
The lead orc took the fireball dead-on. Flames swallowed the one behind it as well, and both burned to ash. The smaller firebolts only scorched the orcs' hides, however. Enraged by the burns, the creatures charged with even greater fury.
Meni and the San warrior held the line with their shields while the San woman stabbed with her spear, doing everything they could to keep the horde at bay. But they were steadily pushed back, wounds multiplying across their bodies. Another fireball flew and incinerated two more orcs, yet when fresh enemies appeared at the edge of sight, the mages lost their nerve and froze completely.
[THUD!]
"Urk!"
"Ugh!"
The two warriors holding the shield wall were shoved backward by the orcs' raw power, toppling and getting trampled. With nothing left to protect them, the mages became easy prey.
"Fire Lance!"
It was Sezanne.
Fire Lance
Sezanne's flaming spear punched straight through three orcs. Sparks exploded around them, turning the ground into a roaring sea of fire. The surviving orcs veered around the inferno and kept charging—only to meet Jinwoo rushing forward with his shield raised.
[CRASH!]
The collision sounded like a leather drum exploding. Both Jinwoo and the orc were thrown backward. It looked like a fair exchange of damage, but the repelled orc blocked the advance of those behind it. The real winner was Jinwoo.
The outcome gave him confidence. He didn't lose to an orc in raw strength even one-on-one. There was no longer any reason to fear them. He raised his shield once more, swung his mace, and held the line.
The orcs were bewildered by this single fighter who could match them evenly. But once they realized there was only one of him, the ones in the rear slipped past Jinwoo and charged straight at the mages.
"Kyaaah! My hand!"
"Protect us!"
The San woman desperately tried to fend off the orcs with her spear, but her skill and numbers were against her. Two orcs were simply too much. Jinwoo nearly fumbled at the screams coming from behind him, but when he saw Yanne's iron beads streak in and slam into the orcs' skulls, he knew they could still hold. Even so, if they waited any longer someone would die. He had no choice but to pour out his mana.
He hurled the heavy kite shield like Captain America's vibranium shield, shattering an orc's leg. With his left hand now free, he channeled mana through it and unleashed a torrent of flame.
Flame Emission
The jet of fire washed over the orcs like a flamethrower. Far more of them were swallowed by the blaze than any of Sezanne's previous spells. Those who panicked and tried to dodge the flames had their heads crushed by Jinwoo's mace.
"Fire Lance!"
Two orcs incinerated
Sezanne's magic detonated again. With two more orcs dead, the enemy's momentum finally began to crumble. Jinwoo charged once more, spewing flames from his left hand like a living flamethrower. Even the proud orcs who never showed their backs to an enemy turned tail and fled in terror.
"Are both of you all right?"
Sezanne had survived real war as a mercenary, so she wasn't overly worried. Yanne, however, was experiencing this kind of desperate fight for the first time. Yet contrary to Sezanne's concern, Yanne was calmly firing iron beads at the fleeing orcs. Sezanne herself leaned against the wall, face ghostly pale, gasping for breath. She wasn't injured; firing intermediate spells in rapid succession had simply drained her stamina.
"Aaaagh, it hurts! My hand..."
"Wian! The potion, hurry! Snap out of it, Wian!"
The real problem lay with the mages who had accompanied Sezanne. One woman screamed as blood poured from the stump of her right wrist where an orc had severed it. The other sat blankly, mind completely gone. Only the male mage remained functional. He frantically pulled a potion from the dazed woman's pouch and rushed to reattach the severed wrist.
The two warriors who had been trampled along with their shields finally stood. The Mor woman had no serious injuries. The San man, however, had both wrists bent at grotesque angles—clearly broken when he fell while holding the shield.
The San woman had suffered only scratches, so Jinwoo approached the mage who was pouring potion onto the severed wrist. He carefully lifted the injured arm, applied healing and activation buffs, and the wrist reattached in moments thanks to the potion's power.
"Ah... it doesn't hurt. It really doesn't hurt anymore. My wrist moves. Hahaha..."
The woman who had feared permanent disability laughed wildly with relief. But the laughter was unhinged, almost grotesque. The mage still sitting in a daze and the woman who had lost her hand both seemed to have reached their psychological breaking points.
Jinwoo cast healing and activation buffs on the San warrior whose wrists were broken, then gathered the man's shield and equipment.
"Try not to move your arms if you want them to heal properly. Stand behind the mages."
"But then..."
"Meni of the Mor race will take point, supported by the San woman. We'll head up to the second floor. I'll cover the rear. Let's move. Right now, mana stones don't matter. We need to get out of here."
One marker on his map remained motionless at a disturbingly close distance. The sooner they reached the second floor, the better.
Sezanne could barely look after herself, so Yanne took charge of the dazed mage. They nearly ran into kobolds on the second floor but avoided them after checking the map. On the first floor Meni kept silent for once and single-handedly dealt with the wolf-like monsters.
"You should've done it like that, you stupid bitch! Why the hell did you pull that crap on the third floor?!"
At the male mage's tirade, Meni shrank her shoulders and wilted.
"Young master, I was only... trying to draw every attack to myself so the mages wouldn't get targeted."
"Idiot. This is exactly why everyone says Mor are all brainless. You have to read the situation. We went to the third floor trusting a moron who just does whatever she's told. Good grief."
The entire way through the first floor, the male mage continued hurling abuse at Meni.
"The exit!"
Once they stepped outside the dungeon and safety wrapped around them, everyone sank to the ground, breathing hard.
"You stupid bitch! You yelled and turned everything into this mess! Were you trying to get us killed on purpose?"
"Th-that's not..."
"Shut up! We nearly died because of you!"
"My... my hand won't move right. What do I do? Something's wrong with my hand."
The woman whose wrist had been severed kept shaking her right hand with her left, muttering that it felt strange. The other female mage, still dazed, simply wept when sunlight touched her face.
"We're terminating the contract with you, you stupid bitch. Get lost!"
"But my contract is with the guild master, my father..."
"We hired you because we thought you had decent skills. Even Father didn't know you were the kind of idiot who attracts orcs. You there, San warrior! Run home and tell them we've returned. Bring help!"
"This right hand is cursed by the dungeon. Urk! It feels like it's strangling my throat."
Hans sighed as he watched the two women. All three mages had trained at the Magic Tower for a full year. As children of the merchant guild, collecting mana stones in dungeons was a required trial before they could inherit the family business. After seeing this, however, it was clear these two would never set foot in a dungeon again.
When guild personnel arrived and took the female mages away, Jinwoo informed the male mage that he had failed the evaluation.
"Whatever. Ptoo!"
He spat at Meni before storming off. The San warrior, who had been watching carefully, stepped forward.
"My name is Pyutel. Warrior, I owe you for keeping me from losing my arm. Ah... should I call you warrior? Or holy knight?"
Pyutel seemed unsure how to address him.
"I'm a mage."
"...A mage, sir?"
Holding a bloodstained mace and kite shield, the claim was hard to believe, but Pyutel bowed deeply anyway.
"I wish to repay your kindness, but I am still bound as a slave..."
"Were you a warrior before they dragged you here as a slave? How much ransom remains?"
Pyutel's efforts had been overshadowed by Meni, but compared to the warriors from the observing parties, he was clearly skilled.
"Before I was captured from my village, I was a hunter. The ransom left is... about thirty-three gold."
"If I pay it, will you join us? Ah, raiding dungeons for money isn't our main line of work. We rarely enter them unless there's a special reason."
"If you free me from dungeon mercenary duty, I'll follow you anywhere. But I cannot leave without my sister."
"Where is she?"
Pyutel explained that the San woman was his younger sister, Pyurie. She wasn't as capable as he was, but she had still pulled her weight.
"Fine. Your sister is also thirty-three gold? Then let's go transfer ownership."
"Um... could you possibly buy me as well?"
Meni, who had been standing quietly beside them, suddenly asked to be purchased. There was no slave-marking star cloth on her arm, and earlier conversation had confirmed she was a free person.
"I thought you said you were free, so the contract was terminated."
"Well... what I meant was that I'd like to sign a new contract with you..."
Meni's eyes darted everywhere, unable to meet his gaze directly. If he hadn't heard about Mor racial traits from Sezanne, he wouldn't have understood. Those same traits made her an incredible tank, but the risks had kept him from considering recruitment.
"Mage, if I had the authority to recruit, I would have brought Meni in immediately. There isn't a better warrior than her anywhere in Iparak."
Jinwoo could agree with Pyutel's assessment. Still, her poor judgment meant she might repeat today's mistake. The risk made him hesitate.
"Besides, Meni only requires one gold per month."
"Meni. Contract accepted. Welcome to the party!"
One gold a month—roughly four hundred thousand won. Even with the risk, it was absolutely worth it.